Turn Back? Oh, Man!

Runners can be stubborn, sure, but for sheer persistence, orienteers are off the charts.

Orienteering isn't a big sport in the U.S.; it's far more popular in Europe. It involves traversing rugged terrain in search of marked checkpoints using a map and compass. The best orienteers are generally good runners, but the converse is not true; the best runners are frequently awful orienteers, probably because their brains never learned to work as quickly as their legs.

Runners like things to be predictable; they like to know how far they've gone, and how far there is left to go. Runners don't like wrong turns. Runners wear Garmins, and log their weekly mileage to the tenth of a mile.

Orienteers like to go off the grid; they amuse themselves by getting lost and then trying to figure out where they are. They know that it doesn't matter how fast you run if you don't know where you're going. They fear nothing.

Runners and orienteers sometimes train together -- long runs on trails or in forests are a happy common interest. But every once in a while, the difference between the two breeds bubbles to the surface.

So it was on a cold Sunday morning when our usual group met for a run on the Minuteman Trail in Lincoln. Our typical long run involves following the trail for about four miles, cutting through a cemetery and some other roads to get to the Great Meadows Wildlife refuge. We do a two-mile loop around the marshes, and then go back the way we came.

That's the plan, and we get to Great Meadows after 5+ miles of running, and see that the trail is underwater. The recent rains have swollen the river and the marsh, and for at least 75 yards, we can see that the water is at least ankle deep, maybe more. But after that, we see that the trail is dry... at least for a while; after that, it curves off into the distance towards the river. After a brief discussion, the five non-orienteers in the group want to go no further, figuring that if it's wet here, it will be wet all around the marsh trail. The orienteer, Andy, thinks that trail will dry out after this little bit of overflow. More discussion, and the five runners decide that one way or the other, we're not interested in running another 6-7 miles back in soaking wet shoes and socks, so we decide to turn back. Andy plunges ahead... literally... splashing off through the frigid water towards that one spot of dry trail, yelling that he'll meet us around the other side.

So we run back and down to where the trail comes out the other side of the marshes. The trail on that side is also under water... not a good sign. We wait for a while, and there's no Andy. Happily for us, there is an observation tower (for viewing the birds, presumably), so we climb it and scan the horizon for signs of our orienteering friend. After a few minutes we see his navy blue windbreaker making very slow progress through what appears to be knee-deep water.

Remember now, the air temperature is about 25 degrees F.

Finally, Andy emerges from his circuit of the marshes, his tights wet to his waist. He still has a big smile on his face as he says simply, "You were right!"